550.he led his thousand elite cavalry to Botongwon.
As soon as Park Seong-jin left the court, he led his thousand elite cavalry to Botongwon.
It was the place where they had first been mustered—the ground where his wars had begun.
There was no better starting point for a campaign.
Upon arrival, he immediately put the troops into a training system.
Coordinated movement.
Hand signals.
Banner signals.
Formation changes in response to drums, gongs, and the conch horn (nagak).
He drilled them in a complex signaling system within just a few days.
Those who had once been private soldiers adapted quickly—they were men who had lived by the sword, and among them were many with prior military experience.
More than anything, the will to be reborn reshaped their bodies at speed.
They ate, trained, and trained again.
The thousand cavalry began to move like a single combat organism.
When supplies were finally secured, the day of departure arrived.
On the day of departure, Yun-dam personally came out to inspect the supply situation and handed over the transfer documents.
Among them was one item that weighed heavily on the heart.
The buwol (斧鉞).
Park Seong-jin paused.
"What's this?"
"It's the buwol."
"Oh—why this again—"
It was an axe with a short, broad blade.
Both blade and body were cast entirely of gold,
with shallow dragon patterns engraved across its surface.
The ornamentation was lavish but not excessive,
its sheen deep and subdued rather than flashing.
A black silk cord was wrapped around the end of the handle,
neat enough to feel like part of a formal rite.
It was less a tool meant to be stained with blood
than an object whose mere appearance caused lives and family lines to fall together.
Park Seong-jin looked at it for a moment, then lifted his gaze.
He did not need to test its weight.
This was not given to fight with.
It was given to decide with.
A brief silence followed.
The supreme authority granted by the king to a departing commander.
A symbol that allowed the mobilization of all forces.
A terrifying power that could even enable rebellion.
Park Seong-jin narrowed his eyes.
"…You're just handing this over like that."
Yun-dam gave a wry smile.
"His Majesty said that if we summoned you just to give this, you wouldn't come anyway—so he told me to simply bring it to you."
For a moment, Park Seong-jin shouted,
"Ah—! Aah!"
Then he laughed for a long while.
The laughter was mixed with bitterness, emptiness, and disbelief.
"If I need to raise troops in the field, I'll need it anyway."
Park Seong-jin nodded.
"Come to think of it, if you'd formally called me for this, I probably wouldn't have gone.
Ha… do I really seem like that kind of man?"
Yun-dam replied firmly,
"I told His Majesty the same. That you wouldn't come."
Park Seong-jin stopped laughing and looked quietly down at the buwol.
"The real reason you gave me this is so that if something goes wrong in Gaegyeong while I'm away, I'm to sweep it all away, isn't it?"
What truly worried them was not the enemy outside, but allies hiding within the curtains.
Yun-dam shook his head.
"Ahaha… let's hope that doesn't happen."
But the look in his eyes did not deny it.
The buwol was both the symbol of departure and the king's final blade entrusted to Park Seong-jin.
Park Seong-jin looked at Yun-dam.
"I worry about you, once I'm gone.
Do not leave Lord Song I-sul's side."
Yun-dam asked,
"You trust him completely."
Park Seong-jin answered briefly and firmly,
"He is my comrade-in-arms."
That single sentence needed no more explanation.
Just before departure, Yun-dam asked,
"Will you not stop by your home?"
Park Seong-jin shook his head slightly.
"What's the point?
It's best to disappear quietly and return in one piece.
Anything else only makes people worry."
"Later, pass along a message for me.
And tell them to take good care of the hidden spies—no, the slaves—at my house."
"In times like these…"
His tone was light, but his expression was not.
"A home worries you whether you go or not."
He said nothing more.
He did not lay bare the weight he carried when leaving his home behind.
"There are a few comrades from the strike unit coming with me.
They've nowhere special to go, and talking wouldn't ease anything.
Let's just depart."
Yun-dam knew his temperament well.
He disliked unnecessary emotion and long farewells.
So he moved straight to practical matters.
Yun-dam immediately brought two men forward.
First, an intelligence officer—
the one responsible for delivering regional intelligence and waegu movement reports.
Quite literally, Park Seong-jin's eyes and ears.
Park Seong-jin did not ask how the information was obtained.
Second, a supply officer of middle rank—
a man authorized to directly order requisitions from provincial offices.
Since manpower was limited, supplies and equipment would be provided in excess.
Armor, cavalry lances, sabers, bows and arrows, battlefield medicines, horse fodder, cold-weather gear—
all military supplies were said to be available.
"We cannot give you many troops,
but everything else, we will give as much as we can."
Park Seong-jin nodded quietly.
"Thank you."
He spoke simply, but his eyes were sincere.
Just before departure, Park Seong-jin said,
"I'll leave the buwol behind."
He disliked it.
That heavy, crude piece of metal symbolized command authority,
but to him it smelled of political violence.
Or perhaps he simply hated how stupid it looked—
neither sword nor spear, an awkward weapon in between.
But Yun-dam placed the buwol back into his hands with both of his own.
"It is a command given to a commander.
Take it."
Park Seong-jin said awkwardly,
"This kind of weapon isn't to my taste."
Yun-dam answered curtly,
"This is an order that has nothing to do with taste."
In the end, Park Seong-jin had the buwol placed on his saddle.
The soldiers who saw it nearly fell over in shock.
In that moment, he was no longer just a general—
he became the blade entrusted with the king's war.
Park Seong-jin fastened it casually to the horse.
He turned his horse's head.
He did not look back.
As the thousand warhorses cried out in unison, dust rose over the fields of Botongwon.
Their shadows stretched long, pointing toward the southern sea.